Chapter 45 —The Detective's Suspicion
The room fell silent once more.
Silver moonlight spilled across the floor from the window, setting dust motes dancing in the air. The ceiling lamp flickered intermittently, humming faintly. The effect of the herbal decoction was slowly wearing off—I could feel the pain creeping back.
The detective stood by the door. His shadow stretched across the wall like a second, darker figure watching me.
"What were you doing there?" he repeated. His voice was low, yet it reached every corner of the room.
I drew in a breath. My eyes drifted to the crack in the ceiling. I tried to stall, buying time to think of an answer.
"I can't remember," I said, pressing my lips together. My voice came out hoarse—partly from pain, partly from fear.
The detective tilted his head slightly. His narrow eyes glinted in the dim light, as sharp as a serpent's gaze. He took a step forward. His old leather boots scraped against the floor, emitting a faint scuffing sound.
"Well then, would you mind if I helped you remember?"
His question echoed coldly through the room. I could feel it—this time, he wasn't joking.
"No, I don't mind," I said, lifting my hand and showing my trembling fingers. "But… how exactly do you plan to do that?"
He didn't answer.
He simply stepped closer. Each stride was slow, deliberate. His cloak dragged along the floor, making a faint rustling sound. When he reached my bedside, he stopped—so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my face.
Suddenly, he reached out.
His fingers brushed the edge of the blanket covering me.
And in one motion—aggressive, sharp—he yanked the covering away.
The air hit my exposed body, and I shivered involuntarily. Dried bloodstains were visible through my torn clothes—most of them clustered around my chest and stomach.
The detective lowered his hand. His fingertips touched the largest bloodstain.
"Whose blood is this?"
The question was sharp as a blade. I paused for a second.
My heart began to pound.
Does he know?
No… this world doesn't have that kind of analytical technology.
Maybe he's just trying to intimidate me.
No rush. Let's see what he says first.
I tilted my head slightly. I tried to avoid his gaze but forced myself to look directly into his eyes.
"Mine, sir. Whose else could it be?"
The detective's fingers rested on the bloodstain for several seconds, motionless. Then he lifted them, holding them up to the light. The dried blood on his fingertips gleamed a dark crimson.
He stared at me.
"Interesting."
The moment that word slipped from his lips, the atmosphere in the room shifted again. I widened my eyes.
"W-what's interesting?"
He didn't answer. For several seconds, he simply looked at me—as if reading my inner world. His gaze was heavy, cold, and deep. I felt like a small insect under a magnifying glass.
Then he moved his lips:
"Nothing."
He turned around.
His cloak flared in the air, casting another dark shadow on the wall.
Really?
No.
This man sensed something.
He walked toward the door. His steps were slow but certain. When his hand reached the doorknob, he suddenly stopped.
"Kael."
I looked at him. His face was half-hidden in the shadows, only his eyes gleaming.
"Yes, sir?"
He turned his head slightly—just enough to look at me over his shoulder.
"If you remember later… tell me."
"Tell you what?"
He didn't answer.
The door closed slowly, as if by itself. The lock clicked, and the room sank back into silence.
I lay still for several moments. I exhaled, trying to release the tightness in my chest. My hands trembled beneath the blanket. Sweat from my forehead soaked into the pillow, leaving a damp stain.
Then, slowly, the fear in my eyes faded.
So… he doesn't know for sure.
But he suspects.
I stared up at the ceiling. The crack was still there, just as before, but now it looked different—like a watching eye.
This man is no ordinary detective.
---
A Few Hours Later
The moonlight outside the window had given way to the pale glow of dawn. The room gradually brightened, revealing small cracks and stains on the walls. The bitter scent of herbs still lingered in the air.
The door creaked open.
"Hello, Kael."
The voice was familiar and gentle.
Sabrine stepped inside. Her light blue dress shimmered like water in the morning light. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and her face bore signs of exhaustion—she hadn't slept well.
I tried to sit up. I pushed myself up on my elbows, attempting to raise my body—but the pain returned, squeezing my ribs.
"No, stay lying down," she said quickly, stepping to my side and placing her hand on my shoulder. Her palm was warm and soft. "You're not ready yet."
"Alright, Teacher," I said, lying back down. As soon as my head hit the pillow, my vision blurred slightly.
Sabrine sat on the chair beside me. The fabric of her dress rustled softly, filling the room with a gentle sound. She sat quietly for a few seconds, then placed her hands on her knees and took a deep breath.
"You're the only one in my class who got injured," she said, her voice slightly choked. "I'm sorry. I blame myself for this. If I had come a little earlier… or if I hadn't left the scene…"
"Don't blame yourself, Teacher," I said, and suddenly coughed. "Cough, cough, cough…"
My chest tightened, and the sharp pain returned. Each cough sent a jolt through my ribs, bringing tears to my eyes.
Sabrine stared at me. Her expression shifted abruptly—the softness gave way to something heavier, like a difficult decision settling in.
A few seconds of silence fell.
"It's all my fault," she said slowly. Her voice sounded as if she were talking to herself.
Huh?
I looked at her in confusion. There was a sadness on her face I had never seen before. Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her dress unconsciously.
Why is she being so childish?
Something was wrong here. But I didn't dare ask.
"Actually… I wanted to ask you something, Sabrine," I said, to change the subject.
She looked up. "What? Go ahead."
"Ummmm…" I dragged out my words, glancing at the window. Outside, a bird hopped from branch to branch. "I wanted to ask about the detective."
Sabrine's brows furrowed slightly. "Ah, the detective investigating you?"
"Yes. To be honest, he's terrifying. Every time he comes, I get scared. My hands tremble, my heart starts racing. What kind of person is he?"
Sabrine suddenly chuckled. Her laughter was soft and warm—it eased the heavy atmosphere in the room a little.
"Haha, don't worry. He's a good man. He has exceptional detective skills."
"Like what? For example?" I asked, trying not to miss the smallest detail. "Uhh… I mean… does he have any spiritual abilities? Or is it just mental—ordinary detective skills?"
Sabrine paused for a moment, thinking. Her eyes drifted to the ceiling, and she rubbed her chin with her finger.
"Hmmm… I think both."
That answer made my heart sink.
So… he knows something.
I clenched my fist beneath the blanket.
This situation is delicate. I can't let it spiral out of control.
"Hey, are you alright, Kael?" Sabrine said, tilting her head to look into my eyes. "You've gone pale."
"I'm fine. Just tired."
She looked at me with suspicion but didn't press further.
"Oh, and one more thing I wanted to ask," Sabrine said, brushing her hair back with her fingers. "Why didn't you come to school for the past two nights? Or today?"
I paused for a moment, thinking. Unsure how to answer, I glanced out the window. Outside, the wind was rustling the branches of the trees.
"Yes… I've had some issues. Once they're resolved, I'll come every day," I said, trying to put as much confidence as I could into my voice.
Sabrine looked at me for a few seconds. There was a mixture of suspicion and concern in her eyes. Then she nodded.
"Alright. I'll wait," she said and stood up. Her dress rustled, softly filling the room again.
As she walked toward the door, I spoke again:
"Oh, and one more thing. Do you know if the director has arrived yet?"
Sabrine stopped, turning her head. "He should be coming today. What happened?"
"If you see him, please tell him to come see me. I have something important to discuss."
She looked at me with suspicion. Her eyes narrowed, her lips twitching slightly. She stared at me for several seconds without saying a word.
Then: "Alright, fine," she said, and left the room.
The door closed.
Through the window, the morning light began to pour in fully. The room slowly warmed, and the air felt lighter. But the heaviness inside me remained.
I stared out the window.
So… the detective… he might be able to tell whose blood that was. If he has analytical abilities… maybe?
My fingers gripped the blanket tightly.
What can I do?
Tell the truth? Maybe with some lies mixed in… I don't want to do that.
But… since he probably already knows… I have no choice.
My vision blurred. Fatigue seeped into my very bones.
I'll rest a little now. I'm exhausted.
I closed my eyes. My eyelids were heavy as lead.
I shouldn't rely too much on Dzao. But as long as I can use him… why not? He can bring me medicine… maybe?
A faint smile crossed my lips.
At least I'll go to sleep with that thought.
Now… I need to figure out what to do about the detective.
My eyes slowly closed. My breathing steadied.
Silence enveloped the room.
Only the morning light from the window fell across the floor, bathing the room in a warm golden glow.
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